


Changed

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9355319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: A look inside the hotel room in San Francisco on the night that changed everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is based off of 8x21. The beginning (up until they go inside the hotel room) and the end (when the scene starts up again in the hotel room) belong to Shonda Rhimes and respective writers and creators of Grey’s Anatomy! The dialogue is not mine, I just watched the scenes and extrapolated on them. The stuff you don’t see in the episode, all that is mine that I imagined and then wrote out (obviously.) Characters are not mine either, as you know. 
> 
> That said, enjoy how I imagine what we *didn’t* see went down.

We stumble off the elevator and into the hallway that our rooms are in, laughing and gasping for air. “You punched a guy,” Jackson says, still in disbelief.

“I _punched_ a guy,” I repeat, solidifying to both of us that it actually did happen.

“It got fricken crazy in there,” he says, but I hardly hear him.

I had been walking ahead, but once we get to my room door I turn and face him. “Jackson, we are gonna do this. I...I-I can feel it.” I slide the key card into the door and it swings open, but we stay standing outside of it. “This is our last night as residents.” 

He scrubs his hand down his face. “Let’s hope.”

I grab his shoulders, feeling bolstered with confidence. “No, stop that! Stop doubting yourself. We freaking kicked that guy’s ass in there, we are gonna kick this test’s ass!”

He’s smiling at me in a way I’ve never seen him smile at me before. His eyes are gleaming and shiny as they drift over my face. “How come you’re so confident all of a sudden?” he asks.

I lift my arms up and take in a big breath. “I’m...a soldier.”

Minor confusion flits across his face. “Yeah, I still don’t know what that means-”

My brain is racing a thousand miles per hour when I do it. I close the space between us and kiss him; I kiss him like I know he’s going to kiss me back and I’m not wrong. The seconds that are spent with our lips pressed against each other are long and lasting, and only interrupted by him saying “April…” with his mouth still against mine.

I break apart from him, but keep my hands on his chest where they pull at the collar of his sweatshirt. “Should I not have done that?” I ask, breathless.

“I, um…” he says, and his eyes dart to my lips.

I don’t waste time with letting him answer. I kiss him again, with just as much passion as before. I wrap my arms around his neck to grapple for his shoulder blades, and he holds me tight around my waist, by the small of my back. Without pulling my lips away, I say, “If you want me to stop, just say so. And I’ll stop.” Our breath is mixed together and I can feel my heartbeat everywhere in my body. I’ve never felt this way before in my life.

Breaking the moment, Jackson pulls away and shakes his head. “I just...you’re...the way you’re kissing me right now…” He closes his eyes and tips his head up to look at the ceiling. I can’t keep my hands off of him, and I don’t try to. “You’re a virgin, you’re a virgin…”

“Yes!” I say. “Because my whole life, since I was a kid, I had this idea of how my life was supposed to be. These rules that I was supposed to follow, but…” His eyes look that same way as they did just moments ago; it feels like he’s looking through me instead of at me. There’s something else lighting up behind his blue gaze too -- lust. “I’m not a kid. I’m not the same person I was when I started my residency.” Our faces get close again; so close that our noses press up against each other, along with our foreheads. His arms are still locked around my waist, and I never want to be further away from him than right now. “I just punched a guy. And it felt really good.” I rest my hands on his lower hips, pulling his body to mine. He smiles with his lower lip between his teeth, and his eyes pause at my mouth as I speak. “And when something feels really, really good… it can’t be bad, right?” 

“I...I, uh…” His voice is soft, and his eyes roll back in his head as he tries to form words. I cut him off, though.

“Jackson. Hey.” His gaze moves from my lips back up to my eyes. “It’s okay.” Now I find myself unable to keep my focus on his eyes, and I’m the one that keeps moving down to his mouth. “Really. It’s okay.” We kiss again, our bodies pressed tight together, and he lifts my feet slightly off the ground so we can move into my room.

When the door shuts and locks behind us, all bets are off. I slip out of my shoes and he does too, and I undo the two buttons on the collar of his sweatshirt and then tear it off over his head. When I do that, a wave of his scent washes over me and takes up my head space, and it makes me more delirious than I already am. 

With one hand buried in my hair, he keeps kissing me. The other hand finds its way down from my shoulder to graze over my breast, which makes me clamp down softly on his lower lip and then smile against his mouth. I take in a shaky breath when we part, and dart my eyes up to meet his for only a fleeting second before I dip my head under his jaw to kiss his neck. His skin is warm, soft, and smells faintly of his cologne, and when I sink my teeth lightly into him I can feel the sound he makes through his throat.

We don’t say much. Both of us make our fair share of sounds, but I don’t feel the need to talk and I don’t think he does, either. There isn’t much room for talking because I’m not doing much thinking, either. I’m letting my body take the lead, which is something I’ve never done before. It’s refreshing to not be in control of everything for once in my life. It feels like a breath of fresh air.

A moment later, I’m lifting my arms up as Jackson takes off my shirt. Once it’s off, I don’t feel exposed or self-conscious at all. Instead, it propels me to push things even further. My hands fumble between our bodies until they locate his belt buckle, and I work with it the best I can until it comes undone and open. His pants sag just slightly because of it, and I undo the button of his jeans and pull the zipper down, too.

He moans slightly as my hand accidentally grazes the bulge just behind his open zipper, and then he slips his hands up my back to unclasp my bra. He does it expertly; his hands don’t shake and he doesn’t hesitate whatsoever. I wrap my arms around his neck and then we fall backwards onto the bed with his body overtop of mine.

We laugh, eyes locked and noses brushing up against each other as our bare top halves are pressed tight together. I feel the first twinge of nervousness in the pit of my stomach, but I try and force it away as best I can. I don’t need my overactive conscience ruining this. I want this. I want him right now more than anything. This feels right. This feels good.

I skim my hands up his back absentmindedly and he diverts his lips from my mouth down to my chin, to the hollow of my throat, and then lower. He lifts his chest up away from mine and presses a trail of kisses from my sternum to right above where my heart is pounding harder than it ever has before. “You okay?” he whispers, his lips ghosting over the warmth of my skin.

“Yeah,” I breathe, looking down at him as best I can at the strained angle. I rest my hands on his head and brush his short-cropped hair backward.

“Keep going?” he asks, his eyes darting to my lips.

“Keep going,” I urge, and he quickly kisses me before taking my words to heart.

When he covers one of my nipples with his mouth, my eyes roll back in my head and seemingly every muscle in my body goes slack. I reach up and cover my face with one hand, and his name slips out which makes him smile against me. He lingers there for only a second, kissing his way down my torso while keeping one hand on the opposite breast. His palm easily covers the whole thing, and I find myself arching against him so he’ll grip tighter. He picks up my hint and gives it a little squeeze as he presses his lips against my ribcage and then bellybutton.

When my jeans impede him from going any further, he sits up on his knees and firmly grips the waistband. They’re a tight fit, so he has to jerk them a bit to get them off of me, but once they’re gone he pushes them off the bed and I see his eyes drift up and down my whole body, now almost completely naked in front of him.

“It’s only fair you take yours off, too,” I say, and notice that I’ve moved my hands up to cover my chest. He nods like I’ve made a solid point, and then shimmies out of his jeans that he was already half out of anyway.

Once we’re both at the same stage of undress, he leans into me and pulls my hands out of their protective stance and then kisses my palms. I open my mouth like I plan on saying something, which I’m not sure if I do or not, but I just end up closing it and pulling a bit of my bottom lip into my mouth as I grin at him.

  
I'm wearing a pair of modest, multicolored-striped underwear and that's it. I've never been this bare in front of anyone, let alone a man, let alone my best friend who happens to be a man.

“Can I…” he asks, raising his eyebrows as his head is poised at my waist.

“Take them off?” I clarify, and he nods. “Yeah.”

“Do you want this?” he asks.

“Yes, Jackson,” I insist, and start to pull at the waistband of my underwear myself. But before I can get them down, he laughs and substitutes my hands with his own.

“I got it, I got it,” he says.

I press my head back into the pillow and stare up at the ceiling as I feel the last little scrap of clothing come off of me. Once I hear the soft pat of it hitting the carpet, Jackson’s grip is at the insides of my thighs as he gently tries to ease them apart.

“April,” he says softly. “You gotta relax.”

I do my best to take deep breaths, in and out, and slacken my muscles. I don't know if it does much good, but when I feel his mouth press against the heat between my legs, everything turns rigid again. “What are you doing?” I push myself up on my elbows and look at him with alarm.

 A glint flashes across his eyes. “I'm gonna make you feel good,” he says.

“By doing _that_?!”

He places an affirming hand on my thigh; the expanse of his palm almost takes up the entirety of it. “I know what I'm doing,” he assures me.

I flop back on the mattress and cover my face with my hands. “Oh, okay, way to make me feel inexperienced,” I mutter, my voice blocked by my fingers. “Not like I didn't already feel that way…” 

“April, April,” he says kindly, pulling my hands away by the wrist one at a time. “Just let me show you.” We make prolonged eye contact and I chew on the inside of my cheek as he nods encouragingly. “Do you trust me?” 

I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” I say.

“Okay,” he says. “Good. Now just lay back and close your eyes.”

I do as he tells me and lie there with my fingers running over the soft material of the hotel comforter. I'm not sure what to expect, but when his mouth connects with the part of me that's never been touched by another person before - what I feel is out of this world. I can't help but clench the muscles in my legs so his head is sandwiched between my thighs, but his light, calm strokes on the outside of my legs tells me that he's breathing just fine. 

Me, on the other hand… I've started to pant; I can't bear to watch him, it makes the blush on my cheeks burn so hot that I start to sweat. This is more feeling than I've ever experienced; I'm on sensory overload and my entire body - from my fingertips to my toes - is buzzing.

“Jackson…” I whimper, as he works whatever his magic is on me. “Oh, my… _oh_ …”

“It's right there, isn't it?” he asks, though it's not as much of a question as it is a confirmation. I know what he's talking about in theory, I am a doctor after all, but it's never mattered to me that I have a clitoris, never occurred to me that it could make me feel this way, or that Jackson would be the one to find it.

I moan his name as he sucks on the sensitive bundle of nerves and come unwound because of him. For the very first time in my life, I come. And I come hard. My hips buck against his face and I dig my fingernails into his biceps and leave long, raw scratches behind. My back arches away from the bed and he follows my movements, not giving me any sort of reprieve until I come fully down and my legs stop quivering.

He presses one sweet kiss to either of my inner thighs and then moves up to my mouth. “You are really…” he begins. “Really hot.”

My face must turn beet red. The room feels one hundred degrees warmer. 

“I...I…” There's no way I can form complete sentences right now, and we both know that. 

He swipes a bit of sweaty, red hair away from my eyes. “And pretty damn cute, too,” he says, then kisses my lips again; long and sweet while holding my jaw with his thumb and first finger. He pulls away to look me in the eyes and says, “and beautiful.”

“Stop, jeez,” I say, and pull his face back down to mine again so I can kiss him. He swings one leg over me so he's straddling my hips, and my hands find their way down his torso to the waistband of his tight navy-blue boxers as our lips stay pressed together.

His mouth is busy with my right breast when I start pulling his underwear down. He helps me by shimmying his hips and lifting his legs out of the respective holes, but other than that he stays pretty occupied. When he pulls his lips away, I see that he's left a red and purple hickey just above my nipple, and the spot is still coated with a sheen of his saliva. I run my fingers gingerly over the sore and widen my eyes at him. “You made a mark,” I state.

He punctuates my sentence with a definitive kiss. “I meant to,” he says.

“You're lucky it's down there where no one can see it,” I say, and purposefully avoid looking between his legs. I feel like I can't look, although I'm not sure why.

“I can see it,” he says smugly. “And I could leave a lot more in places only I can see.”

I'm about to respond, but he sits up on his knees and reaches for his wallet. He pulls a packet of condoms from it and rips one off, then carefully tears the golden foil packaging open. When he puts it on himself, I take the moment to finally take the sight of him in. When my eyes land between his legs, I realize that I hadn't been prepared for him to be so… well, big. My stomach twists with nervousness as I wonder how badly this is going to hurt.

With the condom on, he kisses my chin and then my neck, murmuring against my skin and asking me if I'm ready.

I tell him yes.

The pain of him entering me is short-lived and dull. The feeling of what comes after trumps any negative sensation that could've been the consequence for this. I've never felt like this in my life before now; so connected to another person on not just a physical level, but an emotional one, too. As Jackson thrusts his hips against mine, we lock eyes and the link is so strong that I'm overcome with a slew of emotions so heady that I don't know where to begin in decoding them.

I want to get lost in the moment, get lost in him, but my thoughts won't shut up. _Jackson is now and will always be your first. After tonight, your life will never be the same. He's not your husband, nor will he probably ever be, and Jesus hates you. He hates you for how good this feels, for how badly you never want this to end. He knows you only want more. And you're a sinner._  

I close my eyes and tune it all out. So, I'm a sinner for a little while longer.

When Jackson comes, I want to sear the way he looks inside my mind so I can remember it forever. I love seeing him so unbounded and unrestrained, all because of how I make him feel. I pull his head down to kiss him and bite down gently his bottom lip, and the sound of him moaning my name gets lost between our tongues.

For a second time tonight, he makes me come. But this time, I'm on top and his apparently expert fingers help me along. Once my head clears a bit from my orgasm, I pull the sheet up over both of our sweaty, naked bodies and practically attack him with open-mouthed kisses while holding his head in my hands. We separate to take a breath and I hold his head between my palms as my forehead rests on top of his, and we stare into each other’s eyes while being unable to keep the near-manic smiles off of our faces.

I roll off of him but stay close, keeping my right shoulder pressed to his left, and then lift my arm to move a few strands of hair out of my face. I take in a huge breath and let it out with a soft laugh, and just lie there with an open-mouthed grin on my face. My body is coated in sweat from all the work we’ve been doing, but right now that’s the last thing on my mind.

“Okay,” he says tentatively. “That was really great.”

I’m still smiling. For some reason I can’t seem to stop. “Yeah. Yes, yes, yes, that was.” 

Both of us are still breathing heavily when he turns his head to look at me. I can feel his eyes, but I don’t match his gaze. “You were great, I mean,” he says. “Are you, uh…” He pauses, and I let out an errant, surprised-sounding giggle. “Are you glad we did that?”

I continue to stare at the ceiling, now my mouth gaping without the smile. I manage a slow nod. “Yeah,” I breathe, then look at him before quickly turning my head back. “Yeah.”

He props himself up on one elbow, looks down at me and smiles. “So you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just...tired,” I say. He nods, and there’s a silent moment between us. Our breaths have slowed down, but I can still feel my hammering heartbeat. I look at him soberly. “We should get some sleep.”

He plops back down into a laying position and repeats what I said. “Yeah, we should get some sleep.” He sighs. “Here, or…?”

“Yeah,” I peep, raising my eyebrows, although at this point I’m not sure what I want or where I want him to be. I don’t know if I want him right next to me. Currently, I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin and I don’t know if that’s in the good way or not. “Yeah. Or...or you could go. Don’t you have to get your pencil?”

He smiles. “It’s the middle of the night.”

We both break out into giggles then. “Right,” I say. 

“Yeah. But you know what? I could go if you want.” I nod. “Yeah, you know what, I’ll go. And you can get some sleep.”

“Okay,” I whisper, still staring at that same spot on the ceiling.

He props himself up on his elbow again, looking at me with those damning blue eyes. His voice is at a whisper too when he asks me, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I meet his gaze meaningfully. “I’m great,” I say softly, and he nods.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, and his smile is sweeter than I’ve ever seen it. I can barely describe how alive it makes my heart feel to know that he’s looking at _me_ like that. With his hand on my jaw and his thumb stroking my cheek, he leans down and kisses me softly, leaving me with that as a goodbye for the night. 

As he gets up, I turn my head away and stare at the wall instead of straight up. When I hear the my lock click shut after he leaves and his footsteps fade away, I let the tears come. I hadn’t realized I’d been actively holding them back, but now that I’m alone all of my emotions are coming to the surface and I don’t try and stop them.

In the expanse of a few hours I’ve broken countless promises and essentially ruined my own life. 

I’m changed. He’s changed, and everything will be different now.


End file.
